Episode 13, VS7.5 - Mok'tah
by Voyager Season 7.5
Summary: Just as B'Elanna is on the brink of a breakthrough, a man on the run and an old enemy disrupt the lives of everyone on Voyager.


Episode 13  
Mok'tah  
  
  
By Penny A. Proctor  
[previously, on vvs7.5: In Episode 1, "Wrongs Not Forgotten" Voyager encountered   
a Cadassian ship, the Malik Ohn, that had been pulled to the Delta Quadrant by   
the Caretaker 35 years earlier and had since become a pirate ship. When Captain   
Janeway was abducted, her rescue was aided by Ramon Hernandez, a Starfleet   
Intelligence officer who had infiltrated the Cardassian crew and spent his time   
in the Delta Quadrant as little more than a slave on the ship. Although invited   
to join Voyager's crew, Hernandez chose to leave the ship on his own.]  
  
  
Prologue  
"bIlujlaHbe'chugh bIQaplaHbe'."  
From the other side of the holodeck, Lt. Joe Carey turned, startled. "What was   
that, Lieutenant?"  
B'Elanna shook her head, feeling chagrined. "It's a Klingon proverb -- 'If you   
cannot fail, you cannot win.' I needed the reminder."  
Carey grinned. "I know what you mean. But I figure we've experienced the failure   
part. This time we win. I'm ready when you are."  
She wanted to be as optimistic, but she was too nervous. All the preliminary   
tests in the Engineering Lab had been perfect, but they needed a holodeck   
simulation to test the effects of their handiwork on the ship as a whole. The   
memory of the fateful holodeck simulations on the slip-stream two years earlier   
were painfully fresh. "All right. Computer, initiate program Torres Transwarp   
Test Zeta."  
Immediately, the grid of the holodeck melted into a recreation of Voyager's   
bridge, complete with crew - the Captain in her command chair, Chakotay to her   
left, Tuvok, Harry, and Tom in their regular positions. She and Carey were the   
only biological beings involved in the test; she would have preferred to have   
others from her research team present, but Icheb was taking a midterm and Vorik   
was with Tom and Tal Celes on the Delta Flyer, trying to find a friendly world   
where they might find replacement equipment. Harry had been especially helpful   
with the Zornon tech, but since then he had been tied up with his department   
evaluations and a "personal matter" lately, and he wasn't even aware of her   
latest breakthrough.  
Carey took his position at the main engineering console to the Captain's right,   
and B'Elanna moved to the auxiliary Engineering station on the upper deck,   
immediately behind the Captain. The station had been manned by Seven for so long   
that it felt strange to be there again. Mentally crossing her fingers, she said,   
"Captain, we're ready."  
The replica of Janeway nodded. "It's your show, Lieutenant."  
"Initiate activation sequence," B'Elanna said.  
Carey responded, "Transwarp coil on line."  
"Zornon cloak stable," the holographic Harry reported.  
She nodded; so far, so good. "Engage temporal stabilizer on my mark. Mark."  
Carey reached for a different part of his console. "Engaged and functional."  
"Transwarp drive is ready, Captain," B'Elanna said.  
Even though the Captain was looking away from her, B'Elanna could picture her   
hopeful smile. "You heard her Mr. Paris. Engage warp engines and go to transwarp   
at your discretion."  
"Aye, Captain." Tom's body tensed with concentration. "Warp 9. 9.25. 9.3. 9.6.   
Threshold reached; switching to transwarp drive...now."  
This was it. B'Elanna sucked in her breath and held it, waiting. And she waited.   
And waited.  
None of the holograms moved, not so much as a blink or a muscle twitch. Tom's   
hand was frozen over his console; Chakotay was caught with his hand in the air,   
as if he were giving a benediction. The Captain was half-sitting, half-standing   
on the edge of her chair. It was as if time had stopped.  
"Damn!" B'Elanna brought her fist down on the station. "Computer, end program."  
The bridge and everyone except Carey shimmered and faded back into the mundane   
grid of the unprogrammed room. He waited several seconds before speaking. "That   
... was an improvement."  
"An improvement?" Frustrated and angry, she took a deep breath and tried to   
count to ten. She made it to five. "It didn't work, Joe. Borg coils, Zornon   
cloaks and Federation equipment - it's mok'tah. It just doesn't match. Exactly   
what improvement do you see in that?"  
"Well, let's see. The first prototype was so ineffective, so we couldn't tell in   
the Lab that we'd hit warp 10 with no protection from the temporal effects of   
transwarp. Not good. The second one caused the port nacelle to race off in one   
direction and the starboard in another. Also not good. The last one blew up the   
warp core and everything else within fifty kilometers." He paused, then grinned.   
"At least this time, we got out of the Lab and we're still alive. I call that   
progress."  
She almost laughed from sheer frustration. "We're alive. Stuck like a beetle in   
amber in some kind of time pocket, but alive."  
"Come on, Lieutenant - remember the Human proverb - 'if at first you don't   
succeed, try, try again."  
"Right. Doesn't mean we have to enjoy it." She rubbed her belly; the baby wasn't   
any happier about the result than she was. "Download the transcript and meet me   
in the Engineering Lab. Let's try to figure out what went wrong this time." She   
sighed. "I just hope Tom is having a better day than I am."  
  
***  
Thirty light years away, an ancient shuttlecraft shimmied and creaked, then   
screamed a sound like metal ripping itself apart. A section of the plating fell   
off the bulkhead and crashed to the deck, clattering even louder than the   
wheezing engines.  
"Something's wrong, Ramon."  
Ramon Hernandez reached across the distance between the pilot's seat and the   
second chair and took the hand of the woman sitting there. She was too pale, he   
thought, and her delicate skin shone with perspiration. Injured and ill, she was   
still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen or imagined. "Don't worry,   
Lynella. Trust me."  
She smiled ruefully, and brushed one sweat-clotted strand of strawberry blonde   
hair from her face. "Oh, I trust you. It's this miserable excuse for a ship you   
took that worries me. If it's this bad now, what will happen when we're in real   
trouble?"  
"It's not that bad."  
"Oh. Then the warp engines are supposed to make that noise?"  
Before he could answer, the engines burped twice and the sound stopped. Ramon   
glanced down at his panel and cursed silently. Warp engines weren't supposed to   
make any noise except a soothing hum, but on this wretched ship the belching   
noise meant they were working. Quiet humming meant they were down.  
He let go of her hand and stood. "This will just take a minute."  
Lynella leaned back in her chair and sighed. "My grandmother was right. A bad   
deed always comes back to slap you in the face."  
"Your grandmother never had to run for her life across the Delta Quadrant," he   
said, frowning at the engines. He couldn't understand why they weren't working;   
everything looked right, or at least as right as it got on this tub. Time for a   
little percussive therapy, he decided, and kicked the base of the control panel   
as hard as he could.  
With a cough and a hiccup, the engines wheezed to life.  
He returned to the cockpit and took his seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw   
her watching him with amusement. "What?" he asked.  
"You amaze me."  
His heart turned over in his chest, as if he were a schoolboy on his first date.   
"I told you, I'll get you to a safe place."  
"I believe you." Her gray eyes were warm with affection.  
Something new began to beep and for an instant he couldn't locate the source.   
This rat trap of a ship was so poorly designed that nothing was where it ought   
to be. "Next time," he muttered to himself, "I'm going to steal the best damn   
ship I can get my hands on." Then he realized that the beeping came from the   
communications panel. "Someone is hailing us."  
Lynella lost even more color. "Who -- who are they?"  
"Let's see."  
"Unidentified ship, this is Lt. Tom Paris of the Delta Flyer. Do you require   
assistance?"  
A slow smile spread across Ramon's face. "Oh, baby, this is our lucky day." He   
hit the comm control to respond. "Lt. Paris, this is Ramon Hernandez. Remember   
me?"  
"Hernandez? From the Malik Ohn?"  
Ramon winked at Lynella. "The same. And yes, I could use some help. My companion   
needs medical assistance."  
Beside him, Lynella stirred. "Ramon-"  
"You do. And the Delta Flyer has an excellent medical station. Could you beam   
the two of us over, Lieutenant? This old crate hasn't got much left in it."  
"No problem. Stand by for transport."  
He leaned across the cockpit and grasped Lynella's hand. "Don't worry. This is   
perfect, you'll see." He was still holding her hand when the transporter beam   
caught them.  
They materialized in the aft cabin of the Delta Flyer, with Lt. Paris waiting   
for them. "Hello again," the Lieutenant said.  
Before Ramon could answer, Lynella's knees buckled and both men reached to   
support her. "I'm sorry," she said weakly. "So silly."  
"I know lots of people who react that way to transporters," Paris said   
soothingly and led them to the biobed. "Let's get you right over here." He   
looked over her head to Ramon and mouthed 'What happened?'  
"Lynella isn't feeling well." He turned around, studying the details of the aft   
cabin. "Not as crowded this trip."  
Paris smiled. "That's right, we had a full house the last time you were here.   
This is just an ordinary away mission. Three of us fit a lot better." He helped   
Lynella lie down and reached for the medical tricorder. "I'm a medic," he   
explained to her. "I'd like to examine you."  
"Please," Ramon said quickly. He stepped back from the bed, moving closer to the   
replicator and the tool he had spotted. While Paris was concentrating on his   
task, Ramon closed his hand around an EPS spanner. It was more than ten   
centimeters long and satisfyingly heavy in his grasp.  
Paris ran the tricorder over her body, concentrating on the readings. "Your   
temperature seems high," he said to her. "And so does your blood pressure. Of   
course, I don't know what's normal for you yet, but since feel unwell, you're   
probably running a fever." He leaned forward, trying to get a different angle   
for the hand-held sensor.  
As Paris bent over his patient Ramon raised the spanner over his head and   
brought it down heavily on the skull of the taller man. He heard a sickening   
thud as Paris dropped senselessly across Lynella, pinning her beneath him.  
She gasped, but Ramon ignored her distress as he hauled the inert form snatched   
up Paris's phaser. The younger man was heavier than Ramon anticipated, and he   
lost his grip. Paris fell to the floor, knocking over a medical tray from a   
nearby console.  
Too much noise, he thought at the clatter of the instruments on the deck.  
"Ramon -" Lynella began in protest, but he cut her off.  
"Stay right there," he said, switching the phaser setting to 'kill.' Standing   
beside the unconscious officer, he pointed the weapon at his chest and waited.  
It didn't take long. In only moments, a young Bajoran woman came from the   
forward cabin, saying, "Is everything all right, Lieutenant?" She froze when she   
saw Ramon and the phaser he pointed at Paris's crumpled form.  
"Put your weapon down on the deck and kick it over here," he said. "Do it now,   
or I'll kill him."  
The young woman seemed astonished. "But - but why? We were helping you."  
"Do it. And don't say anything else."  
She looked from him to Paris and back to him. Slowly, she removed her weapon and   
placed it on the deck.  
"Stand up and kick it over here."  
After another brief hesitation, she complied. Without moving the phaser pointed   
at Paris, he squatted down and picked it up. It was set on stun, he saw. He left   
it there and pointed it at her. "Who else is up front?"  
"No one."  
"Don't play games, little girl. Paris said there were three of you."  
"You misunderstood. There's no one else." She spoke rapidly, words tumbling out.   
"Are you taking the ship? Are you going to kill me, too?"  
"Yes. And no." He fired the phaser set on stun, and she crumpled to the ground.  
"Ramon, what are you doing?" Lynella shouted at him. She was standing up,   
clinging to the side of the bed for support.  
"Trust me." He heard nothing, but he was certain there was someone else there.   
And that someone had to be aware that something was going on; he or she would be   
armed and ready. He tried to recall the configuration of the forward cabin and   
realized that there was no place for anyone to hide.  
There was no time for hesitation. He ran into the other cabin with both phasers   
ready. He barely saw the Vulcan seated in the pilot's seat, one hand holding a   
phaser and the other still dancing on the controls. He dove for the deck, firing   
at the same moment as the other.  
The Vulcan toppled forward, unconscious. His shot went above Ramon's head and   
dissipated against the bulkhead.  
Ramon stood, breathing heavily. He had fired on Starfleet officers and he had   
taken a Starfleet ship. If he had harbored any hopes of going home again, he had   
just killed them.  
Shoving that thought aside, he grabbed the Vulcan by the arms and began to pull   
him toward the transporter.  
Act One  
"We're being hailed," Harry Kim announced. Frowning, he added, "That's odd. It's   
not from the Flyer but they're using the Flyer's identification code."  
Captain Janeway frowned. "Let's have it, Lieutenant."  
The view screen filled with the face of Tal Celes, surrounded by cramped and   
unfamiliar equipment. Her hair was disheveled and her face streaked with grime.   
"Voyager, thank goodness."  
Kathryn Janeway rose, shocked. "Celes?"  
"Captain, you need to beam Lt. Paris to Sickbay, he's been badly hurt."  
She signaled Harry and watched as Tal turned her head to check behind her. After   
the beam-out she turned back to the screen. "These engines are dead, Captain.   
Ensign Vorik is literally holding things together with his bare hands. Can you   
tractor us aboard?"  
"Commander Tuvok is taking care of it. What happened, Tal?"  
"We were hijacked." The young Bajoran looked disgusted. "It was the man who   
helped you on that Cardassian ship."  
"Ramon Hernandez?" Janeway asked, stunned.  
"I think that was his name. Lt. Paris recognized him. He said his ship was   
falling apart." Pausing, she smiled lopsidedly. "He was telling the truth about   
that, at least. He said his companion was ill. Lt. Paris ordered them beamed to   
the aft section so he could treat her. Vorik and I were forward when he attacked   
Mr. Paris and after that..." she bit her lower lip. "He stunned us both, then he   
transported us to this ship. He didn't even leave us a medikit, Captain. We did   
the best we could for Mr. Paris, but he hasn't regained consciousness and I'm   
afraid he's hurt badly."  
The Captain felt a bubble of rage begin to form. "You did a good job. We'll take   
it from here. Did Hernandez give you any reasons?"  
"Nothing," she said. "He didn't even seem worried about Mr. Paris." She   
brightened. "You should be able to track him easily, though. Before he was   
phasered, Ensign Vorik opened the ion dampeners by .25 microns."  
"A trail of breadcrumbs," Chakotay said. "Good thinking."  
"Mr. Kim, find those breadcrumbs. I am not about to lose the Delta Flyer." She   
slammed a control. "Janeway to Sickbay."  
"I'm rather busy, Captain," the EMH responded, sounding distracted.  
"So am I. I need a report, Doctor."  
"I don't have any details yet. He's critical. Give me ten minutes."  
The bridge was quiet as Janeway rose and turned to her first officer. "You and   
Tuvok should begin the debriefing as soon as Tal and Vorik are on board. I'll   
join you shortly."  
"You aren't staying for the chase?"  
"I'll be back. But first, I have to go to Engineering and tell B'Elanna."  
***  
B'Elanna sat on the only chair in the Engineering Lab and rubbed her aching back   
as she listened to Icheb and Carey argue over the analysis of the test on the   
holodeck. "The initializing sequence must be incorrect," Icheb said. "If the   
stabilizer comes on line first, it overrides the transwarp command and affects   
temporal placement. The freezing effect was clearly an analogue to a major   
destabilization in time."  
"But the stabilizer has to be operational when transwarp initiates or it can't   
buffer the gel packs from the nanoprobes," Carey said, sounding frustrated. "But   
when we brought them on line simultaneously, they seemed to negate one another.   
I thought bringing the cloak up would counter that, but it didn't work."  
"But why?" B'Elanna asked. "Each component works fine individually. Why does the   
system fail?"  
The door to the Engineering Lab opened, and Captain Janeway entered. B'Elanna   
stood up, surprised and instantly concerned. The Captain's expression was grave,   
and since she rarely made unannounced visits to the Lab during her duty shift,   
something was wrong.  
"Sorry to interrupt," she said, and turned to Carey and Icheb. "Please excuse   
B'Elanna and me for a few moments."  
Carey nodded, and the two left without a word. B'Elanna felt a lump rise in her   
throat. "What's happened?" she asked.  
"The away mission ran into some trouble," the Captain said, so carefully that   
B'Elanna knew what was coming next. "Tom has been hurt. He's in Sickbay now."  
"How bad is it?" she asked quietly.  
"I don't know. He's been unconscious for two days, but that's all I know. The   
Doctor is examining him now. Come on. We'll go find out. I'll tell you what   
happened on the way."  
***  
By the time Kathryn and B'Elanna arrived in Sickbay, the Doctor had already   
summoned Sam Wildman and Trish Gallagher to assist him. That, Kathryn realized,   
was not a good sign. After Tom, they were the two most knowledgeable and   
experienced medical assistants on board. If he called for both of them to deal   
with one patient, that patient was in bad shape.  
B'Elanna realized it too, because she skidded to a halt when she saw the three   
medics hovering over the biobed. "Oh," she said. "Oh."  
Sam saw them and, after saying something quietly to the Doctor, came over. "It's   
a closed head injury. If it had been treated immediately, it wouldn't be   
serious, but -"  
"But it wasn't treated and that was two days ago." B'Elanna was composed, even   
though her eyes never strayed from the biobed. "Is he going to die?"  
"Not if the Doctor can help it." Samantha smiled reassuringly. "We're prepping   
for surgery now."  
B'Elanna reached blindly for Kathryn's hand and squeezed it. Sam didn't need to   
tell her that surgery was rare in this age of advanced medical equipment and   
technique. "What kind of surgery?"  
"He has a depressed skull fracture. Ordinarily, an osteoregenerator could   
correct it, but because of the time involved, it has to be surgically elevated.   
Once the operation is done, we have to remove some bone chips and evacuate the   
intercranial hematoma -- the blood that has collected in the brain - but that   
can be done with the medical transporter. They're causing pressure, and that   
pressure has damaged tissue and neural pathways." Sam bit her lip. "Afterwards,   
the doctor plans to keep him unconscious for at least 48 hours for regeneration.   
We won't know until then how successful we've been in repairing all the damage."  
B'Elanna's throat constricted, trying to swallow but it was suddenly too tight   
and too dry. "Can I see him?"  
"I'll ask the Doctor." Samantha patted her shoulder reassuringly, and returned   
to the sterile field.  
"I'm sure it will be all right, B'Elanna," Kathryn said, looking at her with   
concern. She had expected anger or fear or both from her volatile engineer, but   
instead B'Elanna was almost unnaturally calm.  
"Yes," B'Elanna said distantly. "It has to be."  
Samantha hurried back over. "I'm sorry, B'Elanna. I'll call you as soon as we're   
finished. You can see him then."  
For a moment, B'Elanna simply stared at her. Then she said, "All right," and   
turned and walked out.  
Kathryn paused only long enough to tell Samantha, "I want to know the instant   
the surgery is finished."  
She found B'Elanna waiting in the corridor. "Why don't you call it a day?" she   
suggested. "I know your thoughts won't be on the engines."  
"No!" B'Elanna said harshly. Then she remembered to whom she was speaking. "I'm   
sorry, Captain. I'm not good at waiting. I need to keep busy."  
Kathryn studied her closely, looking for signs of fatigue or suppressed emotion   
and saw none. "All right," she said slowly. "Keep me posted."  
"I will." She started to leave, then stopped. "Thank you for telling me   
yourself, Captain. I appreciate it."  
***  
Kathryn sat at the desk in her ready room, staring at the computer monitor. She   
had Starfleet's records on Ramon Hernandez on the screen. The picture showed a   
man of twenty-eight years old, young for the rank of Lieutenant Commander, with   
jet black hair and just the slightest hint of plumpness in his face. Perhaps it   
was only her imagination, but she thought there was a hint of an idealistic   
gleam in his eyes. Thirty-five years in the Delta Quadrant had turned the thick   
hair iron gray, honed the plumpness into wiry strength and burned the idealism   
away.  
The door chime sounded and Chakotay came in. "We've picked up the trail," he   
said as he sat opposite her. "Harry found Vorik's bread crumbs a few minutes   
ago."  
"Any estimate on when we'll catch up to him?"  
"It depends on how long he stays at maximum speed. We're at warp 8 now. If the   
Flyer continues at warp 6, we'll meet him in a day and a half."  
She swung the monitor around. "Recognize him?"  
Chakotay studied the picture, then frowned. "I wouldn't, if I didn't know   
better. This quadrant has changed him."  
"Let's be blunt. Living with the Cardassians changed him." She shook her head.   
"He was a promising young officer, Chakotay. One of the rising stars of   
Intelligence. His father was a regional director of Federation Security, his   
mother a hospice physician. At the time he disappeared, he was engaged to marry   
his mother's protégée, a physician at that same hospice."  
"Sounds like a model officer with a strong ethical background."  
"And now this model officer is stealing shuttles and assaulting my officers."   
She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. "Why do I feel so betrayed?"  
"You liked him," Chakotay replied. "He was a link to your past. He helped rescue   
you, and you offered him a place with us. And..." he let the sentence die.  
Tilting her head, she waited for him to finish. When he didn't, she said, "Out   
with it. Since when do you not tell me what you're thinking?"  
"And his history is similar to yours." As her eyebrows lifted, he went on,   
"Raised in a family with a strong sense of duty and ethics, a model Starfleet   
officer, engaged to be married -- and then pulled into this quadrant."  
"There but for the grace of God go I?" She sighed and leaned back in her chair.   
"Perhaps. Perhaps it requires shedding every scruple and ethic to survive   
thirty-five years as a Cardassian prisoner. I like to think I'd have managed it   
differently."  
He smiled. "Oh, you would have. I've got no doubt that you would have led a   
mutiny and taken command of the Malik Ohn years ago."  
Her answering smile was brief. "When we catch him, he's got to go to the brig.   
And then what? Do we keep him locked up until we make it home? Do we dump him on   
a planet someplace?" Her expression and her mood darkened. "And I don't even   
want to consider the ramifications if Tom doesn't make it."  
"If Paris doesn't make it, I think you'll have to leave him someplace." Chakotay   
was unusually somber. "It might not be safe for him here."  
"What do you mean?"  
He shrugged. "Tom has a lot of friends on this ship, and so does B'Elanna. The   
temptation for revenge could be strong."  
Much as she wanted to protest, she understood the reality of the situation. Tom   
was no longer the outcast he had been at the beginning of Voyager's journey; he   
was part of the family. And family ties were not violated lightly, even in the   
enlightened 24th century. Veering away from that line of thought, she said, "I   
want to find him, Chakotay. I want to know why he didn't just come to us for   
help. He had to know we'd have given it to him. Why didn't he just ask?"  
"I don't know. But I have a feeling we may not like the answer."  
***  
Ramon flipped a toggle on the pilot's console and grinned. Over the years he'd   
become adept at learning alien technology -- and after thirty-five years in the   
Delta Quadrant, Federation technology was alien to him -- but whoever had   
designed the Flyer had a fine appreciation for the relationship between pilot   
and ship. The switches and toggles let him literally feel the Flyer's reaction   
to commands, which had helped him figure out the strange controls quickly. With   
the ship on autopilot, he slipped out of the seat and headed to the aft cabin.  
Lynella lay on the biobed, her eyes closed. Quietly, he checked the readings on   
the monitors. He frowned and picked up the medical tricorder. As he ran the   
scanner over her, Lynella opened her eyes and he felt a tiny shiver of fear. Her   
normally crystalline green eyes were dull and glassy. "How do you feel?" he   
asked, hiding his concern.  
"Not so good," she said, and his concern ballooned to full-fledged worry. She   
never complained, never acknowledged how ill she was. She must be bad indeed to   
admit it now. "But it's all right, Ramon. I'm free. That's all that matters."   
She smiled weakly, and her eyes closed again. The monitors showed that she was   
asleep.  
"No," he said softly, his voice cracking. "That's not all." He checked her   
medication levels, returned the medical scanner, and slipped back to the main   
cabin.  
Sliding into the pilot's seat, he restored manual control. For a long moment he   
sat without moving, simply staring at the streaks of stars passing by at warp   
speed. He couldn't even seem to muster up a coherent thought as he looked out at   
blur of space; he seemed capable only of feeling, and in the jumble of emotions   
within him, the one that stood out was fear. But for the first time in a very   
long time, it wasn't fear for his own fate.  
"All right, Captain Janeway," he said to no one in particular. "Let's see how   
well Federation justice holds up in the Delta Quadrant." With a quick, angry   
movement, he turned the ship about.  
***  
On the Cardassian warship Malik Ohn, Gul Datik sat with his back to the wall,   
facing the only door to the small space that served as his office, and held a   
disruptor set to kill in his lap. "Come in," he said.  
"It's just me," his chief of Sciences said as he entered. "You can put the   
disruptor down."  
"Sit down, Ghemot." He changed the setting on the weapon back to stun and laid   
it on his desk. Ghemot had served with him for nearly fifty years; they had been   
friends long before the Caretaker pulled their ship to the Delta Quadrant. "It's   
getting tiresome, you know. Wondering which of them is going to make a move, and   
when."  
"It's your own fault. You never should have let that Federation ship get away   
without a fight." His eyes narrowed slightly. "They think you're getting soft."  
"And you? Do you think I'm ... softening?"  
Ghemot laughed briefly. "Of course not. I have to admit, I don't understand why   
you did it. But then, I never understood half the things you did. You always   
seem to have your own agenda."  
The Gul smiled slightly. "Tell me, my friend, have you given up on seeing your   
family again?"  
"Yes," Ghemot said bluntly.  
"I'm sorry for that. I still have hopes we will make it back. Seeing Janeway's   
daughter reminded me of my own family. And ... it reminded me of the way we used   
to be, you and I and the others from the old days. We had such ideals."  
"You had ideals. I had hopes of promotion." He shook his head. "You're   
fortunate, you know, that the Starfleet officer killed Rekela. If she had   
survived, she'd have organized a mutiny and your assassination -- and probably   
mine - months ago."  
"Yes, he did me a favor." He had pondered the irony of it many times. Without   
Rekela, the dissident factions on the ship had splintered into disorganized and   
viciously competitive groups. For weeks after the incident, one faction would   
actually warn Datik of plots against him hatched by another faction, just for   
the satisfaction of watching the failure and subsequent punishment of their   
rivals. The sheer stupidity of it had both astonished and amused him. "It's odd,   
to be indebted to a Starfleet officer and the Borg for my life."  
This time, Ghemot laughed heartily. "Yes, you have to be the luckiest pirate in   
space. Who else could have a ship caught in the middle of a Borg civil war and   
come out of it stronger than before?"  
The conflict between the Borg had boiled into the Corish Crescent not long after   
the Malik Ohn's encounter with Voyager, and after witnessing a sphere and a cube   
annihilate one another, his crew had united in one request to him - save the   
ship. He had promptly issued an order to leave the Crescent to the Borg and move   
forward, seeking a new safe haven. The ship was in unfamiliar territory for the   
first time in over a decade. "Yes, for now they appreciate the value of   
experience and age. Sooner or later, though, one of the young bloods will be   
restless enough to make another try. And eventually one of them will have   
sufficient guile -- and balls - to succeed."  
"Keep an eye on Kheyint."  
Kheyint. The warning was unnecessary; Datik knew the danger he faced from the   
helmsman of the Malik Ohn, one of the eager youngbloods. Born to the ship's   
original Engineer and a Kazon slave the first year they were in the Delta   
Quadrant, it was, in Datik's opinion, fortunate that the young man's mixed   
heritage was evident only in the coarse and unruly hair that he kept clipped   
short. It was unfortunate that he was the source of a whispering campaign that   
questioned Datik's abilities. "I know. Is that what you came here to tell me?"  
"That, and that we've got a report back from our scout ship. They picked up word   
about the traitor, Hernandez."  
"Oh?" Until recently, he has assumed that Hernandez had remained with Janeway on   
her ship; any sensible being would have. But last month they had learned   
differently, and many in the crew were eager to track him down. Hernandez had   
become the scapegoat for the death of Rekela and the perceived defeat of the   
ship at the hands of the Federation. If he could capture Hernandez and make an   
example of him, he might be able to regain some support among the younger crew.   
"Where?"  
"He stole a shuttle from a repair yard on a planet about 10 light years from   
here." He paused, obviously preparing to deliver a message of great   
significance. "They said he had a woman with him. From the description, she was   
a Skan-Filar."  
Datik's eyes flashed. "He found Lynella."  
Ghemot nodded. "Apparently."  
"Which means he is headed for her homeworld." He thought for a moment. "How far   
are we from the Skan-Filar system?"  
"About 24 light years. We can easily catch up to him."  
For the first time in months, Datik smiled and meant it. "Then let us catch him,   
my friend." He placed the phaser in its case on his hip and rose. "Let us catch   
him."  
  
Act Two  
B'Elanna looked down at Tom's face, relaxed in sleep. She had seen that   
expression many times in the past few years, waking in the night to find him   
beside her. If it weren't for the medical arch covering his torso, she could   
almost forget that he had been injured so badly.  
"Hey, flyboy," she said softly, brushing the back of her fingers along his   
cheek. "Get your rest now. When this baby comes, you've got to take your share   
of midnight feedings."  
There was no response and she felt disappointed even though she knew better than   
to expect anything else. Somehow she thought her voice might stir a reaction   
even though he was in an induced coma. After a moment she straightened and   
turned away.  
The Doctor was waiting for her near his office, and she said to him, "So? Is he   
going to be all right?"  
He raised his right index finger and started to speak, and stopped. After a few   
seconds he said, "Why don't we go into my office, so you can sit down."  
"No," she said. "I don't want to sit down. I want to know about Tom. He's going   
to make it, isn't he?"  
"Yes, of course he is." The Doctor seemed almost affronted that she would even   
question that. "His life is in no danger."  
"Why do I hear the word 'but' coming?"  
He sighed. "Much of the brain is still a mystery to us, Lieutenant. We can   
identify tissues and neural pathways and receptors but treatment that works for   
one individual doesn't for another."  
B'Elanna stared at him. "Just tell me, Doctor. Don't drag it out."  
"There are several areas of Tom's brain that were deprived of blood, and   
therefore oxygen, while he was on that shuttle. I've repaired the vascular   
damage and begun the tissue regeneration process, but there's no way to predict   
whether regeneration will be successful. It depends on the individual."  
"What does that mean?" She felt the cold hand of fear on her heart. "If the   
regeneration doesn't work, what does it mean?"  
"The damage was almost entirely in the cerebellum, although there is some in the   
occipital lobe. If it doesn't heal properly, Tom may have difficulty with   
movement and balance, or with his vision." His eyes were almost sorrowful.  
She caught her breath, unable to inhale for several seconds. "He couldn't fly   
any more. He couldn't be a pilot."  
"Don't assume the worst," he said quickly. "He may regenerate completely. He's   
young, he's strong and --" he smiled slightly -- "he's highly motivated to get   
better. That goes a long way in convincing the body to repair itself. And we can   
still try Icheb's healing nanoprobes. They helped Ensign Gilmore, they may help   
Tom, too."  
"I forgot about those. Why aren't you using them now?" Her voice began to rise   
again. "Why are you wasting time?"  
"The nanoprobes are a treatment of last resort," he said. "It's better for the   
patient if the body can heal itself. And we've only used the nanoprobes for   
restoring damaged nerves and neural connections. Tom's injuries are .. more   
extensive than that. I can't be certain they will work any better than   
traditional regeneration."  
B'Elanna swallowed, but her throat remained dry and constricted. "Thank you,   
Doctor." She turned, not looking in Tom's direction, and started to leave.  
"B'Elanna." She turned and looked at him. "You mustn't lose hope. Tom's done   
very well so far. Hold on to that."  
She nodded once, and walked out.  
***  
The craft that Vorik and Tal had managed to bring back to Voyager barely   
deserved to be called a ship, B'Elanna thought as she circled about. It was   
cramped and cluttered, with panels exposed and conduits hanging loose. She saw a   
dark stain on the deck and looked away, afraid it was from Tom's blood and not   
wanting to think about it.  
"I saw some junk during my Maquis days," she said aloud, "but this tops   
anything. How the hell does this thing fly?"  
She ran a hand over a bulkhead panel and it clattered to the deck, causing her   
to jump back to avoid a smashed toe. Then she looked more closely at the newly   
revealed area. She was long accustomed to cobbling together pieces and parts   
from different sources but this - this was a patchwork of equipment that clearly   
was never intended to work together. "That's incredible," she said softly.   
"Nothing matches. Nothing."  
"Talking to yourself?"  
At the sound of Chakotay's voice, she looked up. "Look at this mish-mash. I've   
never seen anything like it."  
He came and looked over her shoulder, but only for an instant. "You know, it   
wouldn't hurt you to get off your feet for a while."  
"I'm all right." She cocked her head, studying an interface between an EPS relay   
and what seemed to be plasma conduit. "Look at that. It shouldn't work. That   
simply shouldn't work."  
"B'Elanna. When was the last time you ate anything?"  
"I don't know. Lunch, I guess." That patchwork interface was intriguing. "Hand   
me a ratchet, will you?"  
"I checked with Neelix and Sarexa. You haven't been in the mess hall all day.   
You won't do Tom or your daughter any good if you make yourself sick."  
As if in agreement with him, the baby suddenly kicked, hard, and B'Elanna   
straightened and blinked. "I just need to keep busy, that's all. I just need to   
be busy."  
He did something he hadn't done since their Maquis days -- he put an arm around   
her shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I understand. We're all worried. But   
Tom's too stubborn to give in. He's going to be fine."  
"You don't understand," she said, and to her horror felt her eyes fill with   
tears. She blinked them back furiously. "He may not be the same. He may not be   
able to fly again. That will kill him, Chakotay. Not physically, but it will   
kill his spirit." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'm so afraid for him."  
Then the tears welled up again and she pulled away, turning so he wouldn't see   
them. "It's a funny thing. I almost broke it off with him before we got married.   
I was afraid we were a bad match. Now I can't imagine being with anyone else. I   
want him back. I want him back, just the same as he was when he left on the   
Flyer."  
He rubbed a hand across her back lightly, seeming to realize that was all the   
contact she could bear at the moment. "Come on. Let's get you something to eat.   
If Sarexa's casserole doesn't look good, I'll spring for the replicator   
rations."  
When she felt her emotions were under control, she nodded. "Thanks. I guess I am   
hungry after all." She grinned. "But then I'm coming back here. I really do want   
to understand how this ... this crate manages to work."  
  
***  
"There it is," Harry said. His face was set in harder lines than usual. "The   
Flyer is within short-range sensors."  
"Hold us at this distance, Mr. Culhane." As Tom's temporary alpha shift   
replacement responded quietly, the Captain continued, "I don't know why he   
turned around, but we aren't going to trust him. Tuvok, I want control of our   
shuttle."  
"Understood. Transmitting the command codes now."  
"The Flyer is hailing," Harry reported. "It's Hernandez."  
"Let him wait for a minute," Janeway said. "Tuvok?"  
"We have control. I have disabled weapons and the warp drive."  
"Then take us in to transporter range, and then beam anyone on board directly to   
the brig. Then scan the ship and if it seems safe, send a pilot over to bring   
her in. I don't want to use the tractor if we don't have to." Her voice sounded   
harsh even to herself, but she didn't care. "All right, Mr. Kim, let's have that   
message."  
The viewscreen filled with the image of Ramon Hernandez. He looked much the same   
as he had when he left Voyager a few months earlier, except that he appeared to   
be exhausted. "Captain Janeway," he said, acknowledging her with a nod. "I   
realize you're about to transport me to your brig. But my companion is very ill.   
That's why I turned around. She needs more help than I can give her. Please,   
beam her to Sickbay."  
"Is she contagious?" Chakotay asked quickly.  
He shook his head. "No. Put her in a quarantine field until your doctor confirms   
that. Please, Captain. I think she's dying."  
Janeway looked over to Harry Kim with an unspoken question. He understood,   
scanned the Flyer and replied, "The other life form does appear to be in the   
biobed."  
"All right." It was consistent with the story he had told Tal and Vorik. Kathryn   
caught Hernandez's eye and held his gaze. "Have the Doctor erect a quarantine   
field and send a security detail to Sickbay. Use maximum biofilters on the   
transporter. Mr. Hernandez will go directly to the brig."  
On the screen, his shoulders slumped. "Thank you," he said.  
"Don't thank me." She rose. "You assaulted a senior officer and stole a   
shuttlecraft. You have a great deal to answer for, Mr. Hernandez." With a signal   
to Harry to begin, she turned on her heel and walked off the bridge, not   
bothering to watch as the transporter beam caught him.  
***  
Hernandez was safely behind the forcefield of the brig before she arrived.   
Gennaro and Thompson stood at sentry outside the door, and Jackson was at the   
main security station. Before he moved back, Kathryn noted, Jackson glared at   
Hernandez in a manner that was too cold to be a simple warning. Chakotay had   
been right about the temptation for revenge. She couldn't blame Jackson, as long   
it remained just a temptation, she thought. There was no excuse for what   
Hernandez had done to Paris.  
The prisoner was sitting on the bunk, leaning back with his arms folded across   
his chest. Kathryn studied him and felt her anger building. Nothing about his   
body language suggested that he felt either remorse of guilt for his actions.   
"Why," she snapped, as if it were a command.  
He smiled. "Does it really matter?"  
She glared at him, waiting. At first he tried meeting her gaze, but in the end   
he let his drop first. "Do you remember why I left Voyager?"  
"You said you wanted to find a woman. She'd been captured by the Malik Ohn and   
then sold as a slave. Is that the woman in Sickbay?"  
He nodded. "Her name is Lynella. She's from a world that's in the same general   
direction you're heading, but about two months off your course."  
"You told me she was Narcadian."  
"I know. I don't know why I told you that, except that the truth is more   
complicated and I didn't want to get into it then."  
She frowned. "Get into it now, Mr. Hernandez."  
He didn't answer immediately, and she began to think he wasn't going to. Then he   
stood and began to pace in front of the bunk. "Lynella's people, the Skan-Filar,   
have had warp technology for less than twenty-five years. Her ship was on their   
people's maiden manned deep-space mission when they ran into the Malik Ohn.   
They'd never met an alien species before -- inhabited planets are pretty rare in   
that part of space. It was just bad luck that they made their very first First   
Contact with a Cardassian pirate ship."  
"That is unfortunate, but I still don't see what it has to do with your actions   
now."  
"You will. They took her and her ship over a year ago. Her shipmates were sold   
immediately, but Datik and Rekela both wanted her and they kept her on board   
until just a few weeks before we encountered you." He paused, and cocked his   
head toward her. "I don't have to tell you what it was like for her."  
"No. You don't." As a prisoner of the Cardassians herself, she had experienced   
torture and physical abuse and the files were replete with records of sexual and   
psychological abuse.  
"You haven't met her yet, but Lynella is special. She has a kind of luminosity   
about her. She looks like she's made from spun glass, but she's the strongest   
person I've ever known. They both wanted to break her, to dim that inner light,   
but they never could."  
It was a tragic story, but as much compassion as she might feel for Lynella, it   
still did not explain the assault on Tom. "That is truly unfortunate, but --"  
"She fought them. She believes -- her people believe -- that the spirit is more   
important than the body. As long as she didn't give in, she could tell herself   
that her spirit remained free no matter what happened to her physically. Datik   
and Rekela, they never understood this. They thought that if they inflicted   
enough pain she would eventually give up. When they realized she never would,   
they sold her.  
"She was sick even then," he went on quickly. "They wouldn't let me really treat   
her, just the cuts and the bruises so she wouldn't look too damaged. The   
infections had already taken hold." He looked away, then back to Kathryn.   
"That's why I had to find her, you see. She was sold to be a concubine in a   
seraglio. I knew she'd still be fighting, and that she'd probably still be   
sick."  
Kathryn shook her head. "Why didn't you ask my help then?"  
He smiled sardonically. "Oh, sure. Ask you to hang around the Corish Crescent to   
help me kidnap a harem girl in violation of the Prime Directive? Not exactly a   
Starfleet mission."  
She exhaled audibly; he had a point. "Go on. Obviously you found her and were   
running away. When you encountered the Flyer, why didn't you ask Paris for   
help?"  
"I couldn't take the chance he would do things by the book and bring her back to   
Voyager," he said. "I didn't think you would help me. Why should you? I   
wouldn't, if the situation were reversed."  
Before she could respond to that, he went on, "She's dying, Captain. I found her   
too late. All I wanted was to get her back to her own world in time, so she   
could at least die with her family, in peace. I needed a better ship and I knew   
the Delta Flyer was a good one. If I'd been able to keep her alive, we'd still   
be on our way. But she was worse than I thought. I didn't know how to keep her   
alive long enough to get her home, even with the equipment on the Flyer. I had   
to take a chance that after you met her, you'd be willing to help her."  
Anger bubbled up and she clamped it down firmly. "If you had asked me that three   
days ago, my helmsman wouldn't be unconscious in Sickbay, your Lynella might   
have been stabilized and we could be having this conversation in the mess hall   
instead of the brig."  
He froze, his eyes suddenly wide with surprise. "Do you mean you will take her   
home?"  
"I don't know yet. I have to talk with the Doctor and get more information about   
the location of her homeworld. But I'm going to consider it, Mr. Hernandez. I'm   
going to consider it. Meanwhile, you consider what you've done to Mr. Paris and   
this crew. We'll talk about you fate later." She turned and walked away, leaving   
him staring after her, looking confused.  
***  
B'Elanna arrived at the brig barely two minutes after the Captain had left, and   
was relieved to see that Jackson was still on duty. They went back a long way,   
back to her first days in the Maquis. "Take a break, Jack-o."  
He glanced at the prisoner, then looked back to her. "B'Elanna -"  
"Don't worry. I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just want to talk to him   
privately." She managed a smiled. "Five minutes."  
He shook his head. "No. I mean, if you're going to need a witness or anything, I   
should stay. After what he did, well, if he had an accident no one would shed a   
tear."  
Maquis loyalty, she thought. It still meant something. "Thanks, but it's all   
right. I really am just going to talk to him."  
With a deep frown, he nodded. Then he stared at Hernandez. "I'm just outside the   
door, you got it? All I need is a reason."  
"Thanks." Her eyes fastened on Hernandez, who lay on the bunk with his hands   
behind his head. She walked to the forcefield, unwittingly occupying the same   
space the Captain had only minutes before. "Hernandez. Do you remember me?"  
His eyes grazed her. "The Engineer. You weren't pregnant then, at least, not so   
it showed. Hard to forget a Klingon in Starfleet. Sorry, I don't remember your   
name."  
"B'Elanna Torres." She paused. "Tom Paris is my husband."  
"Oh." He looked at her again, then closed his eyes. "Is he dead?"  
The complete lack of concern in his voice angered her, but she remained   
outwardly calm, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of an emotional show.   
"No. He's going to live. What we don't know yet is whether or not he'll have any   
permanent brain damage."  
He was silent for a long moment, then swung long legs over the side of the bunk   
and sat up. "Why are you here, Lieutenant?"  
She smiled tightly. "Do you know about Klingon women when they're pregnant? They   
say we get the ability to see the future. Not all the time, but every now and   
then, a flash. I just thought you should know, I've seen a bit of your future."  
He grinned back at her, but there was no mirth in it. "Even I can see that. Your   
Captain is going to keep me locked me up for the rest of the trip."  
"Yes. But if Tom doesn't recover completely, the trip is going to be shorter for   
you. The Captain honors Klingon customs, and once my baby is born I will claim   
the right of vengeance." She leaned in closer, dropping her voice. "Tell me,   
verengan Ha'DibaH, have you ever seen a bat'leth ? I am very, very good with a   
bat'leth and I promise you, I will slice your beating heart out of your chest."  
To her satisfaction, he paled a little. But his next words startled her. "Are   
there a lot of Klingons in Starfleet?"  
"Not many."  
"I believe it. I spent some time on Qo'noS, you know. Klingons and Starfleet   
sounds mok'tah to me."  
He lay down again, but she stood there, frozen. Mok'tah, bad match. The word had   
been in her mind in one context or another all day.  
When she didn't leave immediately, he turned his head toward her. "Look, I   
didn't mean to hit him that hard. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. But I did it   
for the same reason you're standing here now -- because someone I care about was   
hurt."  
"Don't compare yourself to me," she said, her hands bunching into fists. "Don't   
you dare."  
He shrugged. "Starfleet and I are pretty much mok'tah now. We're not that   
different, B'Elanna Torres. The thing is, I've got nothing left to lose. The   
only bit of me that was worth anything is dying with that woman in Sickbay. Once   
she's gone, I don't care what you do to me. Claim your vengeance. You won't get   
much of a fight."  
B'Elanna looked into his eyes and knew that he was telling the truth.  
***  
It was just happenstance that Kathryn stepped onto a lift occupied by Megan   
Delaney, the head of Astrometics/Stellar Cartography since Seven's departure.   
"Deck Five," Kathryn said, then added, "This is fortuitous, Lieutenant. I'd like   
you to take a padd with a schematic of this sector to the brig. Ask the prisoner   
to show you the location of the Skan-Filar homeworld."  
"Certainly, Captain." Megan's eyebrows knit together in concentration.   
"Skan-Filar? I don't believe I've heard that name before."  
"Don't worry, you haven't missed a briefing." Kathryn smiled at her   
reassuringly. "In fact, you've got advance information." The doors opened to   
Deck Five, and Kathryn stepped out.  
Sickbay had only three patients: Jim Morrow, receiving follow up treatment for   
his back injuries during the Borg assaults, being treated by Trish Gallagher;   
Tom, still in the induced coma; and the alien woman with the life support arch   
on full power. The Doctor saw her enter and came over. "How is she?" Kathryn   
asked.  
"Not good, I'm afraid." He was unusually somber. "Her systems are shutting down   
and so far I can't seem to stop it. She's suffered tremendous abuse and   
neglect." He hesitated, then added in a voice that throbbed with suppressed   
rage, "Most of her problems began with repeated sexual abuse -- injuries and   
infections that were never treated. Whoever did this was barbaric."  
Kathryn nodded. "I'm with you there, Doctor. Mr. Hernandez thinks she's dying."  
"I'm afraid he's right."  
It was so out of character for him to say such a thing that she looked at him   
sharply. "What?"  
"She's dying. If I knew more about her species, I might be able to do something   
but so far - I thought she might be related to the Ocampa. She looks a bit like   
Kes, you see, and she tells me that the word 'ocampia' means 'distant cousin' in   
her native language. She even says her people live an average of thirty years.   
She's only fifteen..." his voice trailed off. "But she's not responding to   
treatment that would have worked for Kes. Unless I can pull the proverbial   
rabbit out of the hat, she's going to die, and soon."  
He looked so utterly miserable that she patted his arm. "You're our resident   
magician," she assured him. "If anyone can find that rabbit you can. Is she   
conscious? Can I speak with her?"  
"Yes. I think she'd like that."  
Kathryn walked over to the bed, and saw immediately that the Doctor had not   
exaggerated; the woman looked like Kes. No one would ever mistake her for Kes or   
even Kes's sister, but she had the same delicately pointed ears,   
peaches-and-cream complexion and elfin bone structure. Even her hair was a   
reminder of Kes, or at least, as Kes had been just before she left - blonde and   
waving to her shoulders. "Hello," Kathryn said, mastering her emotions. "I'm   
Captain Kathryn Janeway."  
The woman seemed to pull herself to attention even though she was lying in a   
life support arch. "Captain Janeway. Am I your prisoner?" Her voice was weak and   
wheezy despite the mechanical assistance.  
"Of course not," Kathryn said. "You did nothing wrong. You are our guest."  
She relaxed. "I am Astrogator Lynella ep re' Dorasachisheido, but Ramon says   
that is too much of a mouthful. Please call me Lynella."  
"Lynella. Do you know where you are?"  
The woman smiled, a genuine smile that warmed the room. "Oh, yes. This is the   
Federation Starship Voyager. You are Ramon's people. Oh, Captain, it is such a   
relief it is to find people who are good and decent. If it hadn't been for   
Ramon, and now for you, I would have despaired of finding anything but evil in   
the universe."  
"You had some very bad experiences. I'm sorry. Space exploration can be   
dangerous, but it is a marvelous adventure."  
Lynella's smile widened. "I always believed that. That's why I became an   
astrogator. There is so much to find, so much to learn. It can't all be bad."  
"No. It's not." Kathryn found that she was feeling far more empathy for this   
young woman than she anticipated.  
"Captain, where's Ramon? Is he in trouble?"  
"Yes," she said, keeping her voice even. "He is."  
"It's my fault. Please don't punish him too severely. He was just trying to help   
me get home before I die."  
"I know. And," she said, deliberating making her tone upbeat, "our Doctor is   
determined not to let you die, and he's quite good when he puts his mind to   
something."  
The smile faded. "There's nothing he can do, Captain. We know when our time is   
coming, and mine will be soon."  
"Lynella -"  
"No, it's all right. I'm free now. If die on your ship, as your guest, then my   
soul will be free and can find its way home. I am familiar with this part of   
space." Her mouth trembled a little. "It is a blessing I had stopped hoping   
for."  
Kathryn patted the young woman's shoulder, thinking of John Kelly, the Earth   
space pioneer whose body they had found in the Delta Quadrant. "If I can take   
you home, I will," she promised. "I don't know yet if it is possible."  
"It really isn't necessary, Captain. It is enough that I die free. If I didn't   
believe that, I never could have ventured into space. But - I do have one   
request."  
"What is that?"  
"I'd like to say goodbye to Ramon."  
Kathryn felt trapped. How could she possibly say no? "I'll arrange it," she   
said.  
"Thank you." Lynella closed her eyes, and almost instantly was asleep.  
On her way out of Sickbay, Kathryn stopped by the Doctor's office and asked   
quietly, "How long?"  
"There's no telling," he said. "Not long."  
"Could you put her in stasis?"  
He shook his head. "I don't think so. There's a process going on here I don't   
understand. Her body is simply turning itself off. It must be inherent in her   
species, but I've never seen anything like it. The most we can do is make her   
comfortable."  
Nodding, she turned and left, silently cursing the cruelties of fate and the   
Delta Quadrant.  
***  
Later, she sat in the briefing room with Chakotay and Tuvok. The wall monitor   
showed a schematic of the local region of space supplied by Megan. "Stopping by   
the Skan-Filar homeworld would mean a six week detour, but I'm inclined to think   
it's important."  
Chakotay looked at the data. "What rotten luck. If they had launched their   
mission toward the Alpha Quadrant instead of back to the heart of the Delta   
Quadrant, who knows what they would have found."  
"Instead they found renegade Cardassians." Kathryn shook her head. "Lynella   
won't live long enough to get home, but I'd like to return her body to her   
people. They should know what happened, and that not everyone out here is   
hostile."  
"It seems a purely sentimental gesture," Tuvok said. "It is doubtful that a   
planet with technology 250 years behind our own could provide any useable   
equipment or components, and our foodstuffs are adequate for the moment."  
"It's not just sentiment," Kathryn said, "although I admit there's a fair amount   
of that involved. Go talk to her, Tuvok, and tell me that you aren't reminded of   
John Kelly and Jonathan Archer and Neil Armstrong -- the pioneers who ventured   
into space when we knew almost nothing about it. Lynella's earned a trip home if   
we can give it to her. But more than that, I want her people to understand what   
happened to her ship and crew so they can be better prepared the next time. Most   
of all, I want to warn them about what's happening with the Borg. They may not   
pose a threat of destruction any longer, but they are still out there and could   
cause chaos for a new-warp species."  
"And it wouldn't hurt to leave a friend behind," Chakotay added. "We haven't got   
many in this Quadrant."  
Tuvok tilted his head slightly. "Your decision is made, then."  
"Yes." Kathryn nodded. "Assuming nothing unexpected happens to make it   
impractical, we're going to the Skan-Filar system."  
"What about Hernandez?"  
Her expression darkened. "He stays in the brig until we can schedule a hearing.   
I don't want to do that until we know the extent of Tom's recovery, so we can   
file the proper charges. Lynella wants to see him, though, and I promised a   
visit when the Doctor says she's up to it. Please arrange it at your earliest   
convenience, Tuvok."  
***  
"Gul Datik. I think you should see this," the crewman manning the science   
station said. "Sensors have detected an ion trail at the edge of their range."  
Datik walked over slowly. "What is so interesting about an ion trail?"  
"It matches the Federation shuttle that escaped us a few months ago."  
The usual noise and clatter on the bridge ceased abruptly, and Datik was keenly   
aware that all eyes were trained on him. He looked at the ion trail, studied its   
composition and compared it to the data the officer had brought up on the   
screen. "Yes," he said, trying to sound uninterested. "It could be. The ion   
concentration is denser, though. It could be a different ship altogether."  
"Or the engine could need maintenance," Kheyint said.  
The look on the helmsman's face was so dramatic that it was all Datik could do   
not to laugh out loud. "Perhaps. But if we go chasing that trail, we could lose   
Hernandez. I would prefer to catch the traitor."  
"Hernandez may have returned to his own people," Kheyint pushed. "By following   
that trail, we might get both the traitor and the Federation ship."  
Murmurs of agreement spread around the bridge. Datik looked around, studying   
each face. A few were uncertain; more were hostile. Finally he reached Ghemot   
and saw his old friend looking at him with warning.  
"Follow the ion trail," Datik said at last. "The Skan-Filar homeworld isn't   
going anywhere. If this trail turns out to be another worthless Plor scout, you   
can explain it to the rest of the crew."  
"And if it turns out to be the Federation ship?" Kheyint asked. His tone   
bordered on insubordination, but did not quite cross the line. "Will you let it   
go -- again?"  
All the eyes were focused on him again, and he sighed inwardly. They were fools,   
he thought, like the fools back home who thought that Cardassia could never lose   
in war. Sooner or later, there was always someone stronger, someone with a new   
weapon or new idea. Why didn't they see that there was a time for diplomacy as   
well as a time for war?  
But the expectant, inquiring, demanding eyes were boring in on him, and he   
needed no warning from Ghemot to know how to answer. "If we find the Federation   
ship, we take it."  
  
Act Three  
"Hey, Tom," Harry said quietly. The Doctor had assured him that Tom would not be   
disturbed by his voice, but somehow it felt more appropriate to speak softly.   
"Just stopped by to see how you're doing."  
Tom didn't react at all. Harry hadn't expected him to. "The Doc says you have to   
sleep for another day, but you better get up then. Neelix expects me to fill in   
for you in planning the Olympics and he wants me to create an obstacle course   
for horses. Really. I'm not making that up. It's called dressage. The only thing   
I know about horses is that they eat hay. You've got to deal with this." He   
paused again. "Hey, someone - I won't say who - has opened a betting book on   
when you're going to wake up. If you could just sort of pretend to wake up at   
1717 tomorrow, I'll split the winnings with you. I hear the pool's up to a   
month's rations."  
He stopped, wishing he could do something more constructive. "It's late. I'm   
going to try to get a little sleep. You're missing some interesting times,   
buddy, but I'll fill you in later. I just wanted to say hi. And that it's going   
to be okay."  
As he turned, he saw B'Elanna standing against the wall, watching him. When he   
went over to her she said, "Thanks, Starfleet."  
She looks tired, he thought. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her complexion   
was paler than usual. "I meant what I said to him, B'Elanna. He's going to be   
okay."  
Her eyes flew to the bed. "I hope so."  
"He's going to be in better shape than you are if you don't get some rest. It's   
been a long day." He smiled. "Go say goodnight to him and then I'll walk you   
home."  
He waited just outside Sickbay for her to come out. It wasn't a phobia, but he   
didn't like to spend any time there if he didn't have to. The excruciating pain   
he had suffered when Species 8472 attacked him was still vivid in his memory,   
sometimes coloring his dreams. Every so often, just being in Sickbay could   
trigger a flashback. He'd had to duck out early a couple of times when he had   
come to visit Marla Gilmore a few weeks earlier.  
B'Elanna came out in just a few minutes, and he fell into step beside her. "You   
know," she said, "You don't need to babysit until after your goddaughter is   
born."  
"Who says I'm babysitting?" he asked. "Maybe I just want some company."  
"Right." She looked at him through the corner of her eyes. "From what I hear,   
you don't have to go looking for company these days."  
"Rumors," he said easily. "All rumors. And speaking of which, I hear you've been   
spending time in that bucket of bolts Vorik and Tal came back in. What's that   
about?"  
Her eyes lit up. "It's fascinating, Harry. Nothing on that ship fits together.   
It's been pieced together with parts that don't match, and it shouldn't be   
possible to integrate them, but they work. It's like a jigsaw puzzle that   
someone forced together and then smoothed out somehow."  
He smiled at her enthusiasm. It was good to see it; it lessened the impact of   
the dark circles. "Fascinating. Why do you care?"  
She stopped and faced him. "Maybe you can help. We've got the Borg transwarp   
coil, right? But we can't use it without a temporal stabilizer or else we'll   
turn into lizards at warp 10."  
"Right. And we can't get our hands on a Borg stabilizer."  
"Exactly. But I made one, using the same principles that Doc used to create the   
temporal chamber for Kes a few years ago. It's the same basic idea that he used   
for the time serum a few months ago."  
"You made one already? I am out of the loop." Harry frowned. "Serum and a   
chamber is one thing. A stabilizer big enough for the whole ship is something   
else altogether."  
"You can look at my specs later. I've asked Starfleet to check them out, too.   
The problem is, I can't get my stabilizer to integrate with the transwarp coil   
and the Zornon cloak. There's something about the Borg technology I can't quite   
match." She was speaking rapidly now, quite excited. "If I can figure out how   
that ship managed to work, I might be able to figure out -"  
"-how to force the coil, the cloak and the stabilizer to integrate." He turned   
to her, eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yeah," he said slowly. "That could work. It   
really could work. Come on. Show me this wonder ship. Maybe a fresh eye will   
help."  
***  
Ramon Hernandez lay on his bunk, eyes fixed on the bulkhead above him. The   
mattress was comfortable, the place was clean and the temperature was bearable   
even if it felt a little cool after thirty-five years on a Cardassian ship. They   
had brought him dinner, which was actually tasty. He had forgotten how the   
Federation treated prisoners.  
There was a lot he had forgotten, he thought. He had been so young then. So   
young. He had still believed in things, in right and wrong and good and evil and   
love and compassion and sacrifice and mercy. Datik and Rekela and the rest of   
the crew of the Malik Ohn had taught him otherwise. Oh, he still believed in   
wrong and evil -- and fear, and pain and survival. It was the rest of it he had   
despaired of long ago.  
How had Lynella done it, he wondered. How had she managed to remain unchanged by   
them? Were all her people that way, or was she special?  
Thinking of her made him sit up. "Guard," he called.  
The woman in the gold uniform -- he couldn't remember her name - looked up.   
"Yes?"  
"When can I visit Sickbay? The Captain promised."  
Dark eyes looked back at him coolly. "The Doctor says the patient is sleeping   
now, and he doesn't want to wake her. You can see her as soon as he gives the   
word."  
"Hmm." Then he remembered to add, "Thanks." Restless, he lay down on his stomach   
and looked down at the floor. Something caught his eye, and he looked more   
closely.  
Someone, some time, had scratched little lines in the floor, near the base of   
the bunk. He ran his fingers over them, feeling the indentations. Must have used   
a tool of some kind, but what, in the brig? Then he looked over at his dinner   
tray, still on the floor. The knife. Useless as a weapon, but with patience and   
persistence, it could scratch the deck plating. He looked more closely. Six   
groups of five lines each. Thirty days. Someone had once spent thirty days in   
this brig. He wondered who.  
It was because of Lynella, he thought suddenly. The only reason he had helped   
Janeway and her people months ago was because Lynella had reminded him of things   
like honor and good and hope. The things he used to believe in. She made him   
want to believe again.  
He tried to remember Graciela, the woman he had once planned to marry. It had   
been so long, he could no longer picture her face. What he remembered was her   
hair, gloriously dark, like ebony silk in his hands. And that she had a quiet   
core of decency that shone through no matter what the challenge. But he couldn't   
recall the details of a single moment they had spent together; she had become a   
hazy shadow, like a dream that couldn't survive the harsh light of day.  
Lynella was real, though. He thought about the night he had managed to sneak   
into the tiny cell where Datik had thrown her, bringing a regenerator,   
painkillers and antibiotics. She had fallen asleep as soon as the pain   
diminished, and he had held her in his arms for nearly an hour, just watching   
her. He had wondered that night if it would be kinder to administer a poison or   
a fatal dose of anesthetic, but he knew she didn't want that. She wanted to die   
free, awake and aware.  
When he had his own freedom, he had done whatever was necessary to secure hers.   
He had lied, he had stolen, he had assaulted and he had killed. She didn't know   
about that last part, and he wasn't going to tell her. She wouldn't approve if   
she knew.  
And now she was free and she was dying, and he had one last chance to see her   
again. If there were any justice in the universe, any at all, he would be with   
her at the end.  
  
***  
It was 0436 when the commsystem chimed in Chakotay's quarters. He woke   
instantly, fully alert. "Yes, Mr. Rollins?"  
"Sir, we've picked up something disturbing on long-range sensors. I think you   
should see this."  
"On my way." He dressed quickly, and was on the bridge in less than ten minutes.   
Rollins, who had the bridge on the night shift this month, was standing with   
McMinn at the Ops station. They both turned to him as he entered, and Chakotay   
knew immediately something was wrong. Rollins was serious by nature but his face   
was almost grim.  
"Sir. Take a look at this," he said, indicating the monitor at the Ops station.  
The long range sensor display showed a blip at the extreme edge of long range   
sensors, apparently heading toward Voyager. There was something familiar about   
its path, and Chakotay suddenly realized why. "That's the path the Flyer took   
when Hernandez turned to come back to the ship," he said.  
Rollins nodded. "They appear to be following the ion trail. And sir-" he touched   
a control, and the display changed to show the detailed data on the blip.  
The blip was the Malik Ohn.  
"Yellow alert," Chakotay said at once. "Full stop, Ms. Jenkins. We'll be in   
their sensor range in an hour if we continue on our current course." He glanced   
at the chronometer. 0453. He hoped Kathryn was already awake. "Chakotay to   
Captain Janeway. You're needed on the bridge."  
***  
Less than half an hour later, Kathryn stalked into the brig and faced a groggy   
Hernandez. "Did you know the Malik Ohn was following you?"  
He rubbed a hand over his eyes and face. "You've spotted them?"  
"Yes, we've spotted them. Fortunately, we think we saw them before they saw us.   
Are they following you?"  
"Could be. Most of the unsanctioned ships left the Corish Crescent after the   
Borg showed up and started aiming at one another. No one wanted to be in the   
middle of that fight." He shrugged. "I haven't been trying to cover my tracks.   
If they heard I was in the area, yeah, they'd come after me."  
She glared at him. "And you didn't think this warranted mention?"  
"I didn't know for certain." He rubbed his face again, more vigorously. "I'm   
sorry, Captain. I was more worried about the officials from the world I took   
Lynella from than the Cardassians. I was sincerely hoping they'd been   
assimilated by now, or blown to bits."  
"They haven't been." She was angry again, angry at him and angry at the universe   
that kept throwing this renegade Cardassian ship in her path. "Tell me   
something. If they've left the Crescent, do you think that means they've given   
up piracy? Could they just be continuing toward the Alpha Quadrant like we are?"  
He laughed.  
Kathryn waited until he finished. "I see your point, Mr. Hernandez. Well. You've   
handed me a moral dilemma before I've had a cup of coffee and I don't appreciate   
it."  
"Dilemma?"  
"Yes, Mr. Hernandez, a dilemma. Do I send this ship as fast as it can go in the   
opposite direction, or do I take action against a band of renegades who will   
doubtless terrorize this region of space if left alone? What will they do to   
people like the Skan-Filar, who are centuries behind them in technology?"  
Before he could answer, her commbadge sounded. "Chakotay to Janeway."  
"Yes, Commander?"  
"They've seen us. Gul Datik is asking to speak with you."  
"On my way." She looked up and saw Hernandez was looking almost fearful. "Well.   
It looks like Datik is calling the question."  
***  
The third shift was still on duty when she reached the bridge, although she had   
called Tuvok to report for duty early and Chakotay had relieved Rollins. The   
screen already held the image of the Cardassian commander.  
Datik smiled as she took her place on the lower deck. "Captain Janeway. I am   
happy to see that you have recovered."  
"Thanks." She regarded him coolly. Unlike her, he was not on his bridge. The   
background of the viewscreen seemed to show an office or ready room. Apparently   
he wanted to conduct this conversation in private. She had no such qualms. "I'm   
sure you'll understand if I prefer to keep several light years between us."  
"I agree," he said. "Captain, I don't have much time so I will be blunt. My crew   
is panting for your blood -- and they'll come after mine if I don't at least   
make a try for you. But you and I both know that a fight between us would be   
disastrous for both sides. Our ships are too evenly matched. Whichever ship left   
the battlefield would be damaged, possibly beyond repair."  
"Perhaps. Or perhaps we've added a few surprises."  
"I'm certain you have. I know we have. There's nothing like the prospect of the   
Borg to engender creativity in Engineering and Security."  
Kathryn glanced over at Chakotay, who was frowning. Even though she knew better   
than to trust him, his words had a ring of truth. "What do you have in mind? Do   
you intend to surrender?"  
He chuckled. "I had forgotten Human humor. No, Captain. What I propose is this:   
put the traitor Hernandez in a shuttle and send him in our direction. Then you   
depart as quickly as you can and get beyond our sensor range. The crew's   
bloodlust will focus on him long enough for you to get away."  
"No," she said without hesitation. Bloodlust was the right word; they would   
torture Hernandez until he died. She would not abandon anyone to that fate, not   
even someone in her brig.  
Datik nodded. "I thought you might say that. It's very loyal of you, Captain,   
but not wise. I'm offering you the chance to save your ship and crew. He's   
nothing to you."  
"He is a Starfleet officer," she replied. "And I don't bargain in lives."  
"Of course you do. Every captain does. Every decision we make affects the lives   
of those who serve under us. A good captain does whatever is necessary to   
protect his -- or her -- crew. Sometimes that means lives must be lost,   
sacrifices made." He leaned forward. "It is a heavy burden, but it is ours to   
bear. The good of your crew must come first."  
Before she could respond, Chakotay stepped forward. "If you really believe that,   
why did you let us go? You could have stopped me from leaving your ship, or   
later, you could have attacked the Flyer. Why didn't you?"  
"Ah." Datik's expression changed, and Kathryn wasn't certain of its   
significance. The inflection in his voice, though, was rueful. "I'm afraid I've   
always been a bit of an idealist. Once, many years ago, I thought that the   
Federation and the Cardassian Union could be allies. I thought that if I let you   
go, my crew would see the value of an alliance with another ship from our home   
-- at this distance, anyone from the Alpha Quadrant is from home -- and   
understand. I was wrong. They understand only that a ship with technology that   
is likely to be more compatible with ours than anything we can find in this   
Quadrant got away without a fight. If we meet again, I will have no choice. It   
will be war between us."  
Janeway stood. "Then it will be war, because I will not turn Hernandez over to   
you."  
He watched her for a moment, then shrugged. "So be it. Goodbye, Captain Janeway.   
We will not speak again except to discuss terms of surrender."  
The screen went dark, then returned to the normal view of space. "Ms. Jenkins,"   
she said to the night shift helm officer, "set a course 90 degrees to port."   
Then she turned to Tuvok. "Can we use the Zornon cloak?"  
"Not at the moment. Lt. Torres has conscripted it for her special project. I   
understand it is not currently functional."  
She remembered then; she had agreed that B'Elanna's attempts to use the cloak in   
the transwarp project took priority. Oh, well. The cloak was unreliable at best.   
"Ms. Jenkins. Let's see how fast they really are. Maximum warp. Engage."  
***  
Datik left his office to return to the bridge, but stopped as soon as the door   
opened. Kheyint stood directly in his path. "Step aside," he said.  
"No," Kheyint said and raised his hand, pointing a disruptor directly at him.   
"You were talking to the Federation captain. Did you make another deal for her   
escape? Or are you planning to join her ship?"  
"Don't be ridiculous." He looked around, caught Ghemot's eye. Then he gestured   
with his hand, hoping to distract the younger man's attention so Ghemot could   
act.  
But Kheyint wasn't distracted. Instead, he fired the disruptor.  
The energy engulfed Datik before he could react, a blinding flash of light and   
heat that seemed to melt his bones. His last thought was that he should have   
known.  
Kheyint turned and looked around the bridge. "I am in command now. Ghemot, do   
you have any problems with that?"  
"No, sir," the elderly officer said quietly.  
"Then follow Voyager. Do not lose that ship."  
  
Act Four  
Even prisoners can tell when the ship goes to red alert. The lights went out,   
then returned at half strength while red glare strobed from ceiling panels.   
Powell, the guard with the cool dark eyes, flicked her fingers across the   
console that controlled the forcefield. "We're locked into backup power systems   
now," she told him. "Even if we lose main power, that field will hold. You   
aren't going anywhere."  
"You're right. I'm not going anywhere," he said. "Except Sickbay. Please, will   
you check again for me?"  
She acted as if she had not heard him, but before he could repeat his request a   
lieutenant came in. Hernandez recognized him - Ayala, the assistant chief of the   
Security Department. He spoke quietly to Powell, but in the small space Ramon   
could not help but overhear.  
"It's the Cardassian ship," Ayala told her. "They offered to leave us alone if   
we gave him over."  
Ramon felt his stomach lurch, and he was suddenly cold.  
Powell's smile was wintry. "Sounds good to me. After what he did, I figure he   
and the Cardassians deserve one another."  
"I know, but the Captain doesn't see it that way. We're going to try to outrun   
them. It may not work. Commander Tuvok says to keep him here unless we're   
boarded. If that happens, let him out and give him a sidearm."  
Ramon's breath escaped in a single puff. They weren't going to give him up? They   
were going to fight for him? Was this a trick?  
Powell went on, "He's anxious to get to Sickbay to see his girlfriend."  
Ayala glanced his way, then turned back to Powell. "The Captain mentioned that.   
If we're not actually in battle, go as soon as the Doctor gives the okay. Take a   
detail." He looked at Ramon again, a look usually reserved for the rotting   
carcasses of rodents, and then he left.  
Ramon realized he was shaking, and sat down.  
Powell touched her commbadge. "Powell to Sickbay."  
"Yes, Ensign?"  
"Mr. Hernandez wonders when he can see the patient."  
"I was about to call you. She just woke up. I think you should hurry."  
The cold he was feeling intensified. Powell said, "We're on our way," and then   
reached beneath her console and withdrew a set of wrist restraints. "You'll have   
to wear these," she said. "It's regulation."  
"Yes, of course." He stood and held out his wrists. He wasn't going to make any   
trouble, not now.  
She called the outside guards in, then lowered the forcefield and shackled him.   
"We'll hurry," she said.  
He walked out, and she flanked him, with the two other guards following. The red   
lights were flashing everywhere, he saw, but no one seemed panicked. The few   
people they passed moved with practiced quickness but without fear. He thought   
of the Cardassian ship. Its crew had been disciplined for battle, but there was   
always a certain feral pleasure when they were at this stage, an anticipation of   
the kill. This crew was just professionally efficient.  
A short and silent turbolift ride, and then they were at deck 5 and Sickbay.   
They walked in and halted. Torres, the pregnant Chief Engineer, sat on a bed   
while the Doctor checked her with a scanner. He set his instruments down and   
walked over to them. "She's failing rapidly," he said. "I'm sorry. There isn't   
anything more I can do."  
"But she's conscious?"  
"Yes. She refused any more pain medication until she could talk to you. Don't   
dither, Mr. Hernandez. She won't last much longer."  
He went over to the bed and looked down at her. Her face was pale despite the   
life support apparatus, her skin was shining from perspiration and her breathing   
labored. Instinctively he lifted his right hand to wipe her forehead, and both   
hands, manacled together, raised. Ignoring that, he brushed her hair away.  
Green eyes opened. They were dulled with pain, but still alert and intelligent.   
"Ramon," she said weakly. "I'm glad."  
"Don't tax yourself," he said. "Just listen to me. I wanted to get you home, and   
I didn't. I am so sorry."  
"No," she protested. "You set me free, Ramon. My spirit will not wither in   
captivity -- it will fly home. You gave me my freedom. It is the greatest gift   
anyone ever gave me."  
"You deserve more." He felt the hot sting of tears in his eyes, ignored it.   
"Lynella, I -- I love you."  
She smiled. "I know. It took great love to do what you did for me. Don't grieve,   
my heart. Love survives." Her eyes closed tightly shut, as if holding back some   
great pain, and then she looked at him again. "I wish I could touch you."  
"Here." Leaning down, he touched his lips gently to hers, and then laid his   
cheek against hers.  
"It's only flesh," she whispered against his ear. "It's not important."  
Then she was still.  
The medical monitor began to whine, and he straightened. She did not look   
different than she had when he came in, yet she was gone. He stood, simply   
looking at her, unheeding of the tears that streaked down his face.  
"I'm sorry," the Doctor said. He turned off the monitor and stepped back,   
letting Ramon have a few more seconds by himself.  
He took a deep breath and touched her face one last time. She felt cool for the   
first time in days, and she looked peaceful, as if she had eased out of life   
gently. His chest felt full, and he knew it was the grief that would consume him   
when he let it escape. For now, though, it remained where it was and left his   
head surprisingly clear.  
Turning, he sought the Klingon engineer and found her standing beside her   
husband's bed. Her expression was carefully blank, but her eyes were fixed on   
him. He couldn't tell if she felt anger or sympathy, and he no longer cared.  
Without hesitation, he walked over to her. "Tell Captain Janeway I want to speak   
with her," he said. "Tell her -- I claim the right of vengeance."  
***  
"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Hernandez," Captain Janeway said, "but I can't   
accept it. I won't use a life as a bargaining chip."  
They had taken him back to the brig, but Torres must have relayed his message   
quickly because before the manacles were removed, he was taken to the conference   
room on the bridge. He looked around the table, noting the solemn expressions of   
Torres and Chakotay. The Vulcan was solemn also, but that meant nothing. Vulcans   
were always solemn.  
"It's not about bargaining, Captain." He faced her directly. "It's about   
tactics. Have you managed to shake the Malik Ohn?"  
Tuvok answered. "No. They are matching our speed. They appear to have   
significantly enhanced their engine capability since our last encounter."  
"And their weapons, you can bet on it." He looked at Chakotay. "Even if Voyager   
wins, you'd lose a lot of people in the process. And you might not win."  
"Perhaps. But we won't be taken, either." He glanced at the Captain, and then   
added quietly, "This crew will not become prisoners of the Cardassians."  
Hernandez lifted his shackled hands. "Oh, fine. Self-destruction is much better   
alternative."  
"Mr. Hernandez," the Captain said, "Self-destruction is our last option. Even if   
I turned you over, I don't trust Gul Datik. His intentions may be honorable, but   
he left me with the distinct impression he can't control his crew. We could give   
you to them and still find ourselves in combat. It's not worth it."  
"That's what I want to tell -" he began, but the commsystem interrupted.  
"Captain, there's a message coming in for you. He says he's the captain of the   
Malik Ohn, but it's not Gul Datik."  
Janeway rose, and pointed at Hernandez. "Bring him along. I want him to see   
whoever this is."  
She walked out first, followed by Torres. Chakotay and Tuvok waited until the   
two guards came and flanked him, then they walked out. Ramon and his keepers   
were last out of the room. He stood against the wall next to the conference room   
door and watched the viewscreen.  
Kheyint, he thought.  
"I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway," she said. God, she was a cool one, Ramon thought.   
There was just the right blend of authority and condescension in her voice, as   
if she were speaking to a first year cadet. "I am accustomed to speaking with   
Gul Datik."  
"He's dead." Kheyint's sneer was exaggerated. "We know he tried to strike a deal   
with you. He was either a coward or just too old to command. You'll find that   
I'm very different. You won't escape me so easily."  
"You know he offered me a deal," Janeway said. "Do you also know I turned it   
down? Hernandez is a Starfleet officer and under my protection. I will destroy   
your ship before I hand him over to you."  
"No. We will destroy you." His chest seemed to inflate, and he took a dagger   
from a sheath at his waist and used it as a pointer. "Do you think you can run   
from us? Cowards. We will catch you. And we will take your ship and make slaves   
of those who survive." He tilted the pointed end of the knife toward her. "I   
will keep you for myself, I think."  
He was posturing too much, Ramon thought. It was his Kazon blood.  
Janeway smiled, coldly. "We have a saying on Earth. Turn loose your dogs. If you   
don't understand it, you will."  
She made a slashing gesture, signaling termination of the communication and the   
screen blanked. "Mr. Hernandez," she said, turning to him, "who was that   
blowhard?"  
"His name is Kheyint. He's half Kazon and he may be an idiot, but he's a   
dangerous idiot." He paused. "Captain, he will not be rational. He will keep   
coming and coming until one of you has been destroyed."  
"Tuvok, were you able to scan them? Can you tell what their capabilities are?"  
"Yes. I suspect they wanted us to see. They have made significant enhancements   
to both engine systems and weapons. Captain, they now have more capacity for   
combat than Voyager."  
She looked at her Security Officer for a long time, then her First Officer, then   
she turned her head away. "Battlestations," she said quietly.  
Ramon took a step forward. "Captain Janeway," he said. "Please, listen to the   
rest of my proposal."  
***  
"Send me back in the ship I was in when Paris found me. If the warp core is set   
for overload, the Malik Ohn will be destroyed."  
"It's suicide," Janeway said, surprised by his suggestion.  
"Probably." They were back in the conference room, the four senior officers and   
Ramon. "But it's worth it. I know Kheyint, Captain. Now that he's taken command,   
he'll believe that he's got to take you in battle. He won't reason with you and   
he won't stop chasing you. He won't stop until one of you is destroyed."  
She smiled. "Others have had that attitude. The Borg, for one. We're still   
here."  
"Yes, but how many crewmen have you lost?" When she flinched, he was gratified   
to see that he had scored a point with her. "Captain, if it were necessary to   
save the ship, would you order a member of your crew to sacrifice himself?   
Commander Chakotay? Commander Tuvok? Lt. Torres?"  
It was one the key points of command, and everyone at the table knew it. She   
looked at each of the officers he had named, and straightened. "Yes, Mr.   
Hernandez, I would."  
"Then give me that order." He took a breath. "I was a Starfleet officer once.   
Let me be a Starfleet officer one last time."  
Dark blue eyes fixed on him, taking his measure, deciding. Finally she said,   
"They will detect the warp core breach before they bring you on board."  
Torres said, "I think I can help with that, Captain. One of the devices I've   
been testing will cause a delayed cascade in the shuttle's warp drive. It won't   
be noticeable for 180 seconds after activation, and at that point it's   
irreversible. The shuttle explosion will cause a warp core breach in the Malik   
Ohn's main engines."  
The Captain still did not respond immediately. Her gaze was fixed on something   
far away, and she stood very still. Finally she said, "Lt. Commander Hernandez,   
work with Lt. Torres. How much time do you need?"  
"Half an hour," Torres said.  
"You'll leave in thirty minutes, then."  
He felt a rush of relief, and of long-forgotten pride at being addressed by his   
rank once more. "Thank you, Captain."  
"Don't thank me, Commander." She turned and looked at him. "Just make it count."  
***  
"You know," B'Elanna said, laying flat on her back to work on a connection   
directly above her, "this really is an amazing ship. I learned a lot from it."  
"Really?" Hernandez looked around. "It still looks like a pile of junk to me. It   
was the only thing I could get my hands on in a hurry. I can't imagine what you   
learned from it."  
She was working with a micro-solder to weld the prototype into place. "I think I   
found a way to make incompatible equipment work together. If I'm right, this   
crew will owe you even more."  
"There's no debt," he said quietly. "Lieutenant, I am truly sorry about your   
husband. I hope he recovers fully."  
"I believe you." She flicked off the micro-solder. "There. Don't activate it   
until you're on board. Then you've got three minutes."  
"You're sure?" Ramon peered at the device. It looked innocuous.  
Her lopsided smile was mocking. "Oh, I'm sure. I've run the damn thing through   
enough simulations." She rose to her feet, feeling both physically and   
emotionally awkward. "I don't know what to say to you."  
"Qapla' would be appropriate." He smiled. "Or wish me luck."  
"Why are you doing this?" she asked. "For us, or for her?"  
He shrugged. "Both. And maybe for myself as well. Is that good enough for you?"  
She nodded slowly. "Qapla' . Good luck, Commander."  
"And to you, Lieutenant. To us all."  
***  
Janeway sat in the command chair on the bridge, waiting for the signal. Finally   
Tuvok said, "The shuttle bay reports ready."  
"All right. Let's make it a good show." She looked over her shoulder. "Miss him,   
Tuvok, but only just. It has to look good."  
"I shall do my best."  
She nodded and touched the comm control on the chair. "Commander Hernandez, you   
may begin."  
"Aye, Captain." Ramon Hernandez sounded calm. "Initiating launch now."  
A few seconds later, Harry reported, "The ship has cleared."  
Chakotay looked at her, then activated the comm system. "Hernandez, this is   
Commander Chakotay. Return to Voyager, now."  
"Sorry, Commander." Hernandez was completely in character; he sounded scared and   
determined at the same time. "I'm not going to hang around and become a   
Cardassian prisoner. Not again. Oh -- don't bother to try the tractor beam. I   
disabled it."  
"Dammit, Hernandez, we trusted you." Chakotay was also doing well, she thought;   
he sounded properly impassioned.  
"Your mistake."  
The Captain leaned forward. "Mr. Hernandez," she said in a voice that could make   
ice, "if you do not return to Voyager this instant, we will have no choice but   
to shoot you down. We are aware that certain -" she counted to three for   
dramatic effect -- "technology has made its way to your ship. We will not allow   
that to fall into the wrong hands."  
There was no response. She turned to Tuvok and nodded.  
"Firing phasers." On the screen, she watched a line of white light streak past   
the little ship, close enough to singe its hull. Tuvok looked at her with one   
eyebrow slightly raised. "A miss."  
"Very good," she said, and meant it. That was precision work. "Can you do it   
again?"  
He tilted his head, a sign that he was taking up her challenge. "Firing now."   
Again, the white streaked near the ship, this time underneath it. "Another   
miss."  
"What is the Malik Ohn doing?" she asked Harry.  
"It's turning now," he reported. "It's going after the shuttle."  
"About time," she muttered. "Raise the Malik Ohn."  
Kheyint's face filled the viewscreen. He looked almost rabid with anticipation.   
"That shuttle is ours," she said without any attempt at diplomacy. "If you go   
after it, I will regard it as an act of war against the Federation."  
He laughed. "What do you think this is, Captain? A game?"  
The screen went dark. Feeling unaccountably discouraged, she turned and nodded   
to Chakotay. He understood, and said, "Fire again, Tuvok. Target the engine   
nacelle. A glancing blow, if you can."  
"Understood. Firing phasers .. now." The screen showed the streak of light make   
contact with the back corner of an engine nacelle. The shuttle began to spin   
wildly.  
"Good work," Chakotay said to Tuvok.  
"Congratulations are meaningless, Commander. It is not difficult to hit a target   
that expects to be hit."  
Harry spoke up. "The shuttle has lost engines, and the Malik Ohn is closing in   
on it. They've put a tractor beam on it."  
"Hold position," Janeway said. "Tuvok, target the source of that tractor but   
miss it."  
"I trust I may hit some other part of the ship."  
She looked at him over her shoulder, and he turned to his task. "Firing phasers.   
Direct hit, but their shields are holding. There was minimal damage.  
"Transfer all available power to the shields. Stand by, Mr. Culhane."  
"The shuttle is on board the Malik Ohn," Harry said. "And they are firing   
phasers."  
Janeway nodded. "Evasive maneuvers, Mr. Culhane."  
"One hundred and eighty second countdown has begun," Chakotay said. "Keep us   
circling for another two minutes, and then get us the hell out of here."  
***  
Kheyint grinned. Things were going well. The Federation ship had come about in   
another futile attempt to outrun them. "Don't lose Voyager," he snarled to   
Ghemot. "They're next."  
The old man shook his head. "Something is wrong here, Kheyint. This was too   
easy. It may be a trap of some kind."  
"A trap? You heard Janeway. She wanted that ship. She tried to destroy it rather   
than let us take it."  
"And she missed. Do you think that ship made it this far in the Delta Quadrant   
by missing its targets? I tell you, something isn't right."  
Slowly, Kheyint began to frown. Then the doors to the bridge opened, and two   
guards hurled the traitor Hernandez to the deck. He landed on his knees in front   
of Kheyint, who happily backhanded him across the face. He waited until the man   
lifted his head, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. "That old woman   
there thinks you tricked us," he said. "Have you led us into a trap, you   
coward?"  
"Would I do such a thing?" Hernandez paused, then managed a lazy smile. "As a   
matter of fact, Kheyint, I have -- and there's not a damn thing you can do about   
it now."  
Kheyint wasn't certain he had heard correctly. "What?"  
"Kheyint! There's a buildup of energy in the shuttle bay -- his ship -- the   
engines --"  
"See you in Hell," Hernandez said, rising to his feet and wiping the blood from   
his face. Lynella, he thought, are you near? I am coming.  
The explosion began before Kheyint could react. At first it was just sound, a   
dull bass roar that seemed to be approaching the bridge in waves. Then the roar   
became a boom, and the boom became a never-ending scream, and the Malik Ohn tore   
itself apart before it disappeared into the blossom of a warp core overload.  
  
Epilogue  
B'Elanna stood in the holographic reproduction of Voyager's bridge and took a   
deep breath. "Computer, initiate program Torres Transwarp-Eta."  
The simulations of the bridge officers appeared and Captain Janeway turned in   
the command chair on the bridge and looked at B'Elanna. "Any time, Lieutenant."  
B'Elanna nodded once. "Transwarp coil is on line and in stand-by mode. Zornon   
cloak is at full capacity. Beginning countdown to temporal stabilizer." She   
watched the monitor carefully. "Temporal stabilizer engaged and functional.   
Transwarp coil in active mode. Captain, we're ready."  
"You heard her, Mr. Paris. Engage warp engines, and go to transwarp at your   
discretion."  
"Aye, Captain." B'Elanna watched the recreation of Tom closely as he tensed with   
concentration. "Warp 9. 9.25. 9.6. Engaging transwarp drive."  
B'Elanna stopped breathing.  
"Transwarp drive engaged and functional." The hologram of her husband swiveled   
in his seat, his face nearly split in two by his smile. "You did it. We're going   
home."  
She exhaled, and said, "Computer. End program."  
***  
Kathryn sat at her desk in the ready room, sipping her coffee slowly. "Computer,   
resume recording Captain's log entry."  
"Recording."  
"Any reservations I had about the destruction of the Malik Ohn were eliminated   
when we saw the explosion. The magnitude of the resulting shock wave was far   
greater than would result from just two warp core breaches. Lt. Commander Tuvok   
and Lt. Kim conducted a detailed analysis and have concluded that the   
Cardassians were carrying at least two weapons of mass destruction, probably   
tri-lithium bombs. To the best of my knowledge, only Borg cubes and spheres have   
sufficient armor to withstand such weapons. I have no doubt that Kheyint would   
have used them to suit his purposes. Not only would Voyager have been destroyed,   
but he would have been free to threaten or destroy the worlds in this region.  
"Let the record show that Lt. Commander Ramon Hernandez gave his life in the   
line of duty. My recommendation for the Starfleet Citation for Conspicuous   
Gallantry will be attached to my next report to Starfleet Headquarters.  
"A memorial service for Lt. Commander Hernandez and for Astrogator Lynella ep   
re' Dorasachisheido has been scheduled for tomorrow. Our efforts to evade the   
Malik Ohn took us too far away from the Skan-Filar homeworld to make a stop   
there feasible. We shall commend her body to the stars and leave a message buoy,   
as we did for John Kelly. Perhaps one day her people will find it and   
understand.  
"Computer, end recording."  
Almost before the last word was out of her mouth, the door chime sounded. She   
frowned; she had specifically told Chakotay she didn't want to be disturbed.   
"Yes?" she asked.  
The doors opened, and Chakotay stepped in. "I know -- you didn't want to be   
interrupted. But I thought you'd want to know. The Doctor called. Paris is   
awake."  
***  
B'Elanna walked into Sickbay and froze. Tom, dressed in his uniform pants and a   
t-shirt, was standing up and arguing with the Doctor, following him as the   
Doctor paced back and forth near the bed. His gait was perfect, his eyes focused   
and clear. She couldn't have stopped the smile on her face if her life counted   
on it.  
Then Tom saw her, stopped and grinned back. It took only few steps to close the   
distance between them and wrap him in her arms. He held her just as tightly.   
"Hey," he said softly.  
"Hey yourself." She swayed slightly, and he righted them both; his sense of   
balance seemed to be just fine. Her smile deepened. "How are you feeling?"  
"I'm feeling just fine, thank you very much." He shook his head. "When was the   
last time I told you you're beautiful?"  
"About a week ago." She touched his face, then turned her head to look at the   
Doctor. "How is he?"  
"Lt. Paris is as fit and as obnoxious as ever," the Doctor reported with a smile   
that belied his acerbic tone. "He responded to the regeneration therapy   
completely, and he can return to duty tomorrow."  
B'Elanna, awash with relief, smiled at him. "Thank you, Doctor."  
"My pleasure." He shrugged. "It was a unique experience to have Mr. Paris in my   
Sickbay for two days without being subjected to his lightning wit or pithy   
comments. Pity it couldn't last."  
"So," Tom said, pointedly ignoring the EMH, "did I miss anything?"  
"A bit. I'll tell you about it all later." Her eyes gleamed. "Since you weren't   
around I had some time on my hands. I think I've done it, Tom. I think I've   
found a way to make it work. The stabilizer, I mean. It can work with the cloak   
and the gel packs on one side and the transwarp coil on the other. I think we   
can get to transwarp."  
He stared. "Really?"  
"Uh huh. Harry helped me -- but that can wait. The important thing is to get you   
home." She looked over her shoulder. "Can I take him home?"  
"Please," the EMH said. "If you leave him here, I won't be held responsible for   
my actions." He grinned to prove he was kidding, and went into his office.  
"Very funny," Tom said. "Let's get out of here."  
"Yes, sir." She reached up and touched his face, her smile suddenly fading.  
  
"What?" he asked.  
"Mok'tah," she said softly.  
His brows came together. "Bad match? Is that what you said?"  
She nodded. "Once I was afraid we were a bad match. But we fit together, Tom.   
I'm beginning to think there is no such thing as a bad match. The trick is to   
find the way to make things fit."  
"Okay." He was nodding, which meant he had no idea what she was talking about   
but didn't want to make an issue of it. "If you say so. Let's go home."  
She slipped an arm around his waist. "Let's."  
As they walked into the corridor he said, "Did you catch the guy who hit me?"  
"Yes. We did."  
"So, did you rip his heart out? Or is he in the brig?"  
She rested her head against his shoulder. "He's not in the brig any more. And I   
didn't have to rip his heart out. That happened without me."  
They were in front of the turbolift, waiting. "There's a story, isn't there?"  
"Yeah. I'll tell you when we're home."  
The lift doors opened and they stepped inside.  
-the end-  
  
  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: As always, my thanks to the 7.5 staff for their comments and   
assistance, especially Cybermum, Rocky and Christina. Thanks, too, to everyone   
whose comments on "Wrongs Not Forgotten" inspired me to try again.  
  
Coming Next: Links: Letters II by Cybermum and the writing staff of VS 7.5.   
Letters from home are precious--usually. 


End file.
